


The Strongest Avenger

by LeafOnTheWind



Series: Naughty Naughts [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Communication, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Deadpool being Deadpool, Dismemberment, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, He gets better, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Just Doing My Best, Identity Reveal, It Barely Qualifies Really, M/M, My First Smut, Please be gentle, Protective Peter Parker, Roof Sex, Size Difference, Strength Kink, Top Peter Parker/Bottom Wade Wilson, Wall Sex, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafOnTheWind/pseuds/LeafOnTheWind
Summary: Deadpool knows Spider-Man is strong, but hasn’t really thought about the implications.That’s a dirty, dirty lie, he totally has, and hewants.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Naughty Naughts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071557
Comments: 17
Kudos: 419





	The Strongest Avenger

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this at 3AM instead of sleeping and it's my first time venturing, however lightly, into the realm of smut. It was inspired by a fanart of Spider-Man holding up Deadpool, both fully clothed, and that was how it was meant to go. WELP. I tried, m'dears, and DP kept dragging me right back to where we ended up. Meta.
> 
> Anywho, I hope y'all enjoy! <3

Point one: Deadpool has never been a small person.

He’s larger-than-life and has far too many people in his head, he’s brash and outspoken and hooboy he is a big ol’ chunk of man-meat if he does say so himself.

Which he does.

A lot.

Point is, Deadpool has never been a small person.

Point two: Deadpool has, like, four friends.

He has Weasel, who is exactly what he sounds like.

He has Al, who he’s fairly convinced is the personification of his karma. 

((Good or bad?)) 

[[Who cares?]]

He has Dopinder, who for some godforsaken reason takes advice from a chronically insane mercenary with infinite cancer and has lost track of the number of times he’s died. 

[[Seriously, he kidnapped that girl that one time.]] 

((And he KEEPS TALKING TO US.))

And he has Spidey. Baby boy. The Webster. Bubble butt. Who he’s really not even sure counts, but dammit, he’s gonna count Spider-Man if it kills him. Again. 

((It’s already killed us at least, like, ten times in this timeline)) 

“But who’s keeping count? Nobody.” 

((It was like last w-)) 

“NOBODY, WHITE.”

Point is, Spider-Man is DEFINITELY Deadpool’s friend.

Point three: Spider-Man is the strongest Avenger.

I mean, send anyone who disagrees Deadpool’s way. He literally does not care if it is true in a literal sense; if he says Spidey is the strongest Avenger, he’s the strongest Avenger, okay?

Point is, Spider-Man is ridiculously strong.

Deadpool has definitely, 100%, absolutely never thought about that.

And that is a dirty, dirty lie.

\--

Deadpool has thought about Spider-Man’s strength a lot.

When they first started hanging out— 

“We are hanging out, right? Like, on purpose?” 

((He’s barely putting up with you and you know it)) 

“What did I FUCKING say, White?” 

—Spidey-poo was ((UNDERSTANDABLY)) wary of him. He knows he as a reputation, and it’s well deserved. But then he just… kept coming back.

To be honest, that was the first time in a long, long time someone seemed to trust him to try be something more. I mean, he’s not, but like, wow, you know? Made him WANT to be more. Kinda. Some people definitely still need a good un-aliveing.

So they started hanging out, by which he means fighting crime together. Like, regularly. Like, every Sunday night, regularly. It’s like a date! It’s not a date. Well, probably. He should start bringing food from that taco truck—you know the one.

And then, it happens.

They’re fighting generic baddies #7-12 in generic warehouse #447, saving a hostage or something, that’s really more Spidey’s thing. Deadpool’s just here for the ride. 

“That’s the goal!” 

((Seriously, then he might shut up about his perfect ass for once.)) 

“Hate to watch him go, love to watch him leave!”

Anyway, remember points 1-3 from the beginning? Well, Deadpool was going to get stabbed, mainly for the cool factor and a teeny tiny hope that Spidey might notice later and freak out, maybe play nurse for a little bit, then one thing leads to another and then Spidey swings by and yanks him bodily over his head and towards another group to _not_ unalive, because Spidey doesn’t like it. With one hand. Showing, like, no strain, like Deadpool, beefcake that he is, is nothing more than one of Al’s hideous throw pillows. It is so goddamn hot.

Spidey makes some quip about using Bea and Arthur next time instead of standing there, but he doesn’t really hear it over the squeeing in his head.

This has to happen again.

\--

So it does!

Well, Deadpool kind of makes it happen. He says kind of because—as he comes to realize—he can’t actually _make_ Spidey do much of anything. This one time, he was trying to wrestle a burrito from him, ‘cause they’re bros like that and mostly to have an excuse to feel Spidey the hell up, and boy howdy does it pay off when Spidey, with his tiny-ass hands, pinned. Him. Down. With one hand. While he ate the rest of the burrito in like, one bite.

[[Ooh, what that mouth do?]] 

“I know right?” 

((Please stop.)) 

“Never!”

Anyway, Deadpool, a technically-human person with not a ton of self-preservation on the best of days, starts very intentionally putting himself in harm’s way more often. Not like, super harm’s way, given he literally cannot die, but like, harm’s way lite™. Stabbings, particularly heavy falling rocks, that kind of thing, always in Spidey’s view. He even manages to get him to lift him entirely out of this pit he falls into, a literal one, and he does it so, _so easily_ , and uses his webs to boot. Deadpool tried to break them after and couldn’t and _Christ_ that is going straight into his spank bank right there.

And it totally works! Spidey does seem to get kind of peeved, though. Didn’t even let him have the last burrito, and after he went through all that trouble, too! 

((It wasn’t trouble, dumbass, we go to that truck like every day we’re here anyway)) 

“Nothing I do for my baby boy is ever trouble!” 

[[What about that time with the fishbowl?]] 

“Okay, one thing. But so worth it.”

Until one night after a patrol where Deadpool does, in fact, die, Spidey blows up metaphorically. After Deadpool blows up literally. 

“It makes White and Yellow shut up for a little bit, okay?” 

[[We got better!]]

They’re up on a rooftop that Spidey swung himself and Deadpool’s rapidly warming corpse to. At least, that’s what Deadpool assumes happened, given he woke up on a rooftop with Spider-Man, a swiftly regenerating hole in his abdomen, and half his costume missing. He does a quick check of his mask and, thankfully, still there. He’s not exactly secretive about his identity—everyone who knows anything knows he’s Wade Wilson—but looking like the offspring of a pizza and a morbid crime scene does not exactly endear him to the ladies, yaknow? Being shirtless? Totes fine, he knows he has a bangin’ bod. Being maskless? Very different story.

Okay, so he has issues. Everyone knows that.

Also, he should not have done that. Ow. Arms not fully reattached yet, understood.

Wait, that means Spidey brought Deadpool’s limbs with him? That is so fucking sweet! Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, he is so adorable. 

((You’re obsessed, moron.)) 

Deadpool tilts his head towards where he heard Spidey, and sees him moving sharply next to a bag on across the roof. _Damn_ , his ass looks great from here. And when standing up. And literally always. He itches to reach out and touch, but dammit, he’s not gonna fuck this up now. Give him time.

Grinning under his mask, he calls out. “Dearest darlingest Spidey-poo! How’d it go? Is it time for Monday Morning Massages yet?” He wiggles his brows lasciviously under his mask and makes an effort to shimmy. He’s pretty close to healed now, and may he just say he cannot _wait_ until he gets to that one. This one’s better for him than a lot of others, but he did get blown up, so like, fuck you, you know?

Spidey stiffens and stands up, leaving the bag on the ground. He turns to face Deadpool, and he can see him clenching his jaw. 

…Huh, he looks kinda pissed. 

He _is_ pissed. Spider-Man knows Deadpool is self-destructive, but he’s been taking it to a truly ridiculous point these past weeks. He doesn’t know if it’s out of spite or carelessness or if for some godforsaken reason it’s on purpose, but he had to bring Deadpool’s limbs back _separately_ today, and that _cannot_ stand, not least because it is a truly awful look for your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man to be carting around a _dismembered corpse_. There are children around.

“What the hell is going on with you, huh?” He knows he sounds accusatory, and that probably won’t mesh well with Deadpool’s already hellishly low self-esteem, but he’s tried gently pushing Deadpool to be more careful and it didn’t work. And this time, there were people counting on them. _Spider-Man_ was counting on him, and he died an entirely preventable, grisly death. He still has viscera on his costume. He had to send off a couple of traumatized civilians with a recommendation to get therapy so they wouldn’t bear witness to Deadpool regenerating and need _more_ therapy.

Deadpool tests his limbs. Looks like they’re all fully attached now; they hurt a little bit where they’ve knit together but no big deal in the scheme of things. 

“I mean, looks like I’m about done, so not much? Got all ten fingers and toes.” He wiggles them. “You know, me and them, we had a great conversation going before they blew up on me. Totally disarming. Really took my breath away.” It’s not his best work, but it’ll do in a pinch.

Spider-Man brings up his hands and rubs at his lenses, taking a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his cool. Deadpool keeps going until Spider-Man cuts him off. 

“That’s not what I meant and you _know_ it, ’Pool.”

“I heal, you know. Not exactly a permanent condition for me, death.” Deadpool gingerly wiggles his whole body and, satisfied he’s not going to lose anything if he stands up, does so before brushing off his pants dramatically as if they don’t still have bits of Deadpool on them. Actually, he should fix that, it looks like Spidey is focusing on _not_ focusing on that and failing spectacularly. He picks a bit of intestine off his clothing and flicks it over the edge of the roof. 

He does not see Spider-Man stalking over to him, which is a pity, as it was super hot. Every swivel of those hips _does things_ to Deadpool, okay?

He _does_ see when Spider-Man gets very, very close to his face and pokes him harshly, pointedly avoiding any healing injuries and sending him stumbling a step back.

“No, that’s not enough, Deadpool, and you’re not going to distract me from this, not this time. Do you really care about yourself so little?” This accompanies another poke, another step back and a (hopefully) placating expression on Deadpool as he tries to cut in. “ _No_ , ’Pool. Not again. You have been stabbed twelve times in the past week, and that’s only what I’ve seen. You’ve been shot at least thirty-seven times. I _know_ you heal, but it still _hurts you_.” Another. “And it hurts the people we’re trying to help. You wanted to be a hero, right? We’re _helping_ people, jackass, and you getting injured doesn’t help _shit_. It just means I need to focus on helping _another_ person that I _should_ be able to _count on_.” Another, and his back hits a wall.

[[Ooh, we’re doing this? Nice!]] 

Deadpool steadfastly ignores the voices in his head.

“I mean, that’s kinda the point, right? You don’t actually _need_ to help. I can get by on my own, I did it long before I met you and I will long after you’re gone.” Okay, not what he meant to say, but since when did he have a filter anyway? Plus, Spidey is blaming him for getting stabbed? It’s totally his fault, but that doesn’t mean he _knows_ that. He’s not _trying_ to get injured, he’s just… putting himself in situations where that is extremely likely solely as a way of getting Spider-Man to manhandle him in the middle of fights. 

…Yeah, okay, he can see how that might be a dick move. But Spider-Man doesn’t know it’s on purpose, so his accusation is so shitty! 

“Besides, I can fight like that, you know that. I do it, like, every time we go out.”

“ _That’s the problem, Deadpool_. It’s happened _every time_ for I don’t even know how long. And it _sucks_ watching you get injured, get dismembered, watching you _die_. It sucks. And it _needs to stop_.” Spider-Man is almost chest-to-chest at this point, trapping Deadpool against the wall. He could get out, of course, if all of the blood wasn’t rushing somewhere pointedly _not_ his brain at that. And if he wanted, which… maybe. Yeah, this is getting a little too sincere for him. He is Not Good at emotions.

Deadpool frowns. “Wait, what? Yeah, I get stabbed, but I also heal like a motherfucker. Who cares if I get shot a few times? Big whoop, I’ll need to dig em out later, that’s all.” He makes a dismissive gesture as he goes to push Spider-Man aside, intending to—he’s not sure. Run away, probably. Served him well thus far.

Until Spider-Man grabs his gesturing forearm and opposite shoulder (“God, you only even come up to my chin,”) and pins him to the wall. “ _I care, you absolute asshole_.”

All higher forms of thought have now stopped. ((Like that changes anything.)) His eyes dilate behind his mask. He stops breathing for a moment before very intentionally breathing in and out as smoothly and evenly as he can. It still shakes a little.

Spidey pauses out of disbelief, then leans in almost automatically.

He kisses Deadpool, and it is exactly what Deadpool imagined. There’s two layers of material in the way, their noses knock together uncomfortably, Deadpool is freshly healed and pinned to a wall, and it is awful.

It’s perfect.

Spidey breaks off, and Deadpool has only a moment to contemplate how much life is gonna suck once Spidey inevitably regrets this and never talks to him again, but very pointedly ignores White and Yellow when they tell him exactly that. Nope. Spidey has him pinned to a wall, and has just kissed him. Fuck yeah.

A beat, then Spider-Man releases him, and Deadpool thinks that’s it. Damn. Barely got to appreciate it. He had a whole-ass hand free and didn’t even try to cop a feel, he bluescreened that badly.

But his baby boy wasn’t going. He was reaching up to his mask and rolling it up. …Huh. You know, he’s seen this part of his face before, it’s a bit hard to eat delicious, greasy tex-mex while covering up your mouth, and yeah, he’s obsessed over that mole on his chin a lot, and what that mouth do, but he never actually thought he might get to _act_ on that.

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself. 

((You are.)) 

[[You are.]]

Wait, shit, does that mean that he’s expecting Deadpool to remove his mask? No bueno, muchacho.

But _nope_ , looks like he got impatient and re-pinned Deadpool, this time by his wrists (God, his hands are so small, but _so_ strong, he really eats his Wheaties) and starts mouthing along his bare collarbone. He definitely does _not_ want to get free, but tests Spidey a little bit. Spidey pushes him back a little harder before abruptly releasing him entirely. Deadpool pouts at the sudden loss.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Spider-Man says, horrified.

“If you don’t get back here _right now_ and do that again I am going to _implode_ , my safe word is Dorothy and for _fuck’s sake baby boy—_ "

Spider-Man does not need more encouragement, and comes right back in, pressing his chest against the merc’s. He takes Deadpool’s wrists in his hands and brings them up to the wall beside and above his head and sends what would probably be a heated look if his mask wasn’t blocking half his face. “Stay,” he says, and there is literally nothing in this universe that could possibly make him disagree. 

He grips the brick behind him as Spider-Man runs his hands down Deadpool’s arms, tracing his scars and newly-healed skin as he goes and making him shiver as he crosses to where his suit is completely destroyed. He continues down his torso, stopping at every place Deadpool had been injured today, making notable detours to lightly caress his nipples, firm with arousal. His mouth follows and bites down on one, forcing a moan out of Deadpool where words have, strangely enough, deserted him.

Finally he reaches the very prominent bulge showing through his pants and _god_ Deadpool has a size difference kink too he realizes, but instead of grabbing it like Deadpool so desperately wants, he pauses to kiss along his slightly tattered waistline. Deadpool mutters a curse at seeing Spider-Man, his long-time crush, between his thighs, probably gazing up at him, and inadvertently thrusts forward a little. 

He’s immediately rewarded by Spidey pressing _hard_ on his dick, hard enough to hurt a little, hard enough to pin him to the wall again, and he knows without trying that he won’t be able to do that again until Spider-Man _wants_ him to. He rolls his hips experimentally and feels no real give there beyond the limited softness of Spidey’s palm. 

“Don’t,” Spider-Man says, and Deadpool stills. Satisfied, he continues his journey, circling around to cup Deadpool’s ass, or as much of it as he can reach with the wall in the way, and decides that this Will Not Do. In one smooth motion, he brings his hands down to Deadpool’s thighs—and what nice thighs they are, Jesus, thought for later—and _lifts_ , grinding his own erection against Deadpool’s.

And then he does it again. And again. And _damn_ if they aren’t acting like fuckin’ teenagers, grinding up against each other on a wall on a random building in Queens, moaning wantonly, Spider-Man tonguing his neck and leaving marks that immediately heal and they’re both crying out and cursing as they come, Deadpool and Spider-Man, one right after the other, panting as their heartbeats slow, Spider-Man still holding Deadpool up against the wall that has scraped his back raw.

A pause. Neither of them move, the moment suddenly strange.

“So just to be super duper sure,” Deadpool says flippantly, “this is real life, right? Not gonna wake up needing to change my sheets again?” He pauses. “Ha, yeah right. I don’t have spare sheets.”

Spider-Man snorts at the lame joke and replies, “Yeah, no, definitely real life.”

“That’s what a dream would say! Quick, spin a top!” 

He does not spin a top. Instead, he sends a huff of amusement and tips his head forward onto Deadpool’s shoulder. “We’ll have to flip a coin for it, ’Pool,” he looks back up, “if I’m reading this right, at least.” Another pause. “To be clear, because it seems we’re doing a communication thing here, I care a lot about you, Wade. I do not want a one-and-done thing, and you’re gonna have to let me know right now what you want.” He grips his thighs tighter, hard enough to leave bruises on a normal person, before realizing they’re still up against each other, Spider-Man still holding Deadpool up, and reluctantly lowers him down to his own feet. Deadpool hesitates, but lowers his hands from the brick when Spidey says nothing.

He cocks a hip. “Baby boy, I will take anything you’re willing to give.” That was uncomfortably sincere, but that appears to be the trend of the day. 

After a considering look, Spidey seems to reach the same conclusion and leans the hell in. Spidey reaches up to his own half-rolled-up mask and starts pulling it higher. “Wait, woah, what? No, dude, you do not have to do that, your identity is a whole _thing_ , you wiped people's brains for that! _Brains_ , Spidey!”

He doesn’t pause, but quirks an incredulous grin. “Deadpool, I just ranted to you about how much I care about you, we’re hopefully going to be fucking on a regular basis, and frankly, I’ve known you for a long time. I think we’re there.” He finishes pulling off the mask, revealing messy, sweaty brown hair and—sweet baby Jesus—ridiculously pretty eyes. “The name’s Peter Parker. Good to officially meet you,” he laughs shortly and reaches out a hand that has up until about a minute ago been holding Deadpool up until they both came. The silence reaches on. “Obviously you don’t have to, to unmask, I already know your name and I know you’re sensitive about—”

“Shh, daddy’s having a moment here.” Spider-Man laughs it off, more at Deadpool calling himself daddy than anything else, but Deadpool doesn’t even notice. Deadpool is so fucking stoked right now, and might be gettin’ stroked soon by the hottest fucking guy he’s ever seen.

Best. Day. Ever.

“I should get blown up more often.”

“Do NOT get blown up again.”

He should totally get blown up more often.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspo art: the first pic in this post: https://starkerflowers.tumblr.com/post/620839329599799298/wiltkingart-with-the-taste-of-your-lips-im-on-a  
> It wasn't quite _inspired by_ , but Monday Morning Massages is totally a real fic that I highly recommend here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287517
> 
> If you like, come join us on the MCU thirst [Discord server](https://discord.gg/6wFsB2f)! ❤️


End file.
